


Yet Another Failed Confession

by Lemon_Boy_Kaden



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 1950's, 50's, Aziraphale is Bad at Feelings (Good Omens), Failed confession, Fluff, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mutual Pining, Slow Dancing, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, they get milkshakes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-09
Updated: 2019-07-09
Packaged: 2020-06-25 10:10:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19743547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lemon_Boy_Kaden/pseuds/Lemon_Boy_Kaden
Summary: They're gay Carol.Aziraphale and Crowley get milkshakes and dance





	Yet Another Failed Confession

**Author's Note:**

> Unedited and written while sleep deprived, sorry in advanced

Crowley had been absolutely miserable since he met Aziraphale. Every moment with that stupid angel was worse than any punishment God could have ever given him in a million years. That stupid angel and his ridiculously bright smile. Crowley hated it so much.  
It wasn't that he didn't like Aziraphale. No that'd be too easy. See the problem was quite the opposite. Demons aren't known for love, of any kind, let alone romantic love. Maybe lust if any kind, but that's not what Crowley felt. This was so much different. He didn't so much want to have sex with Aziraphale as much as he wanted to hold hands, share gentle kisses, go to some of those stupid human restaurants he loved and eat human food. He didn't want to admit it, not a single cell in his body did, but he was in love.  
But there was no way it could ever happen. And all because he'd been with the wrong people. He was never a bad angel. But he'd been cast out with Lucifer and the worst of them as if he were like them. Still he might never have met Aziraphale had it been for that.

Aziraphale had never once considered so much as holding a single grain of anger for God until he met Crowley. It wasn't something he was proud of. He wished he didn't have any anger for Him but sometimes he wished he could...send a strongly worded letter with an assortment of reasons as to why the rules were stupid. Angels are supposed to love. He knew that. He understood that. But it was supposed to be platonic, selfless love. Not the kind that made him want to kiss a demon until the end of the world blew them to pieces. Or walk into hell to spend a night with said demon. That kind of love was not at all proper for an angel.  
But when he was with Crowley that didn't really matter to him. He was always aware of what he was supposed to do sure, but Crowley always had a way of making him much more clever. If he was in love then nobody had to know, right? God was all about loving everybody, so it wasn't that bad. What He didn't know wouldn't hurt Him.  
Which is precisely why Aziraphale was looking around himself anxiously. The scenery was lovely, though he was a little too anxious to enjoy it. 1953 seemed to be relatively peaceful in comparison to previous years. He was thankful for that. The Second World War had been rather aggressive for his tastes.  
The diner was a favourite of his. Cherry red table tops and seat cushions, robins egg blue walls, and a waitstaff that always had a rather pleasant smile. Not to mention easily the best milkshakes in England. It was modelled after American diners, and was always very busy.  
Aziraphale's head snapped up as he heard the bell above the door jingle and he grinned at the familiar sight of his demon friend. Crowley found him quickly, and sat across from him in the booth, grinning at him.  
"So, what's the reason you had for calling me here angel?" He asked, leaning forward over the table a bit.  
"Yes...uh well I wanted to talk to you about a couple um... things," he responded, thankful as the waitress found her way to their table to take their order. Aziraphale got them both a milkshake, smiling at her warmly.  
That damned smile. Crowley hated it. It made his heart, or at least what he assumed was his heart, flutter.  
"I got this one angel," he said, clearing his throat and shifting. He looked away from the angel, anywhere but him. The ketchup bottles even seemed better.  
"Are you sure? You got the last one,"  
"It's fine, you can just grab the next one,"   
"Oh well...alright, thank you Crowley," he answered and satan-damnit Crowley could still feel that soft look directed at him.  
They chatted idly, about everything and nothing at all. Aziraphale changed the subject whenever Crowley asked him why he invited him there, and Crowley definitely noticed. But he didn't say anything. He let it slide, too busy actually enjoying their time together.  
They were there for two hours, uninterrupted, unbothered. Well until a crack of thunder sounded from outside the diner. Aziraphale looked out and sighed as it started raining.  
"You want a lift?" Crowley asked, grimacing at the rain.  
"You sure? I don't want to inconvenience you,"  
"Nah it'll be fine. I've got nowhere to be tonight," Crowley shrugged, sighing and standing.  
"Then I'd love one," Aziraphale said, following. Crowley paid and tipped the waitress, because he was a demon not an asshole, and they walked out together, rushing to Crowley's Bentley. The old thing was perfect, totally not due to several minor miracles performed by both parties.  
Crowley drove like he always did, and Aziraphale was holding on for dear life as he always did. They were there much faster than it would've taken anybody else, parked just outside Aziraphale's quaint little bookshop.  
"Would you like to come in? I have some lovely bourbon I've been meaning to get into," he asked, looking at Crowley. If the demon didn't know any better he'd say that his companion looked...hopeful.  
"I thought angels preferred wine?"  
"Doesn't mean I can't enjoy other high quality liquor. Do you want some?" He asked, knowing Crowley's affinity for getting absolutely off his face drunk. It surprised absolutely nobody when he agreed to come in.  
The bookstore was the same as it was every time he went in. Cramped but quite cozy. Filled to the brim with every kind of book imaginable. The desk in the back was covered in its usual absurd amounts of papers and books, pens and pencils scattered about. Aziraphale came out of the back room with the bourbon and the glasses, pouring one for each of them.  
"So why did you call me to that diner?" Crowley asked again, taking a sip from the glass, humming softly.  
"Oh yes that. Can't I just want to spend time with my.... with uh you?" He asked nervously. He'd been like that all evening.  
"Well you can but you've never done that before. I've known you over five thousand years angel, come on," Crowley replied, stepping closer and consequently making Aziraphale's heart, or whatever was currently pounding against his ribs jumpstart.  
"Well you see...uh...I got...a new record?" He said, very unsure as he grabbed a random record and held it up.  
"Uh huh." The demon responded, sounding very unconvinced. "Well let's give it a lesson shall we?" He said, snatching it out of his hands and going to Aziraphale's record player, which was like every other thing he owned. Ancient.  
Music flowed from the old machine, and Aziraphale brightened.  
"Can I show you a dance? A young lady taught me how not long ago!" He said excitedly. Crowley could've never said no to that stupid face. He looked adorable like that, and Crowley would never admit it but he'd die to keep that smile on his face. He nodded and set down his glass as the angel grabbed his hand and pulled him away, to an area with more room, before walking up to the confused demon.  
"Alright so your hands go here," he said, placing one of Crowley's hands on his waist, holding the other and placing his own free hand on his shoulder.  
"Alright and then you lead. Forward, left, backwards, right. In a box. Simple enough right?" He asked, looking up at the other. They were...very close. Aziraphale really hoped he hadn't heard his breath hitch slightly. But Crowley didn't say anything, only nodded.  
The first few steps were good but then he fucked up and they stumbled a bit.  
"Sorry, sorry," Crowley said, blushing. Aziraphale just smiled and laughed, shaking his head.  
"No no, that was good! Try again!" He said.  
It took a while but eventually they were dancing to the music, and no longer focusing on their feet, smiling and laughing together. Well until Aziraphale tripped over his own foot and nearly fell backwards.  
Crowley was quick and caught him halfway. It took them a moment, their faces centimetres away, before they quickly gathered themselves, standing and blushing profusely.  
"I should uh...go...water my plants," Crowley said, clearing his throat, his face nearly as red as his hair.  
"Yes well um. Thank you. See you," Aziraphale replied, not looking at the demon who left as fast as possible.  
He couldn't keep doing this. He had to tell Crowley one day. Soon.


End file.
